


A Champion and a Warden

by ThatsSoHawke



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 15:05:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8895895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatsSoHawke/pseuds/ThatsSoHawke
Summary: What if the Hero of Fereldan and the Champion of Kirkwall were, in fact, the same person? Garrett Hawke is conscripted into the Grey Wardens, and the resulting fallout can only be described as him "trying his best".





	

You could feel all their eyes on you. It had been a mistake, not even one you were conscious of at the time. You had slipped, it had been all too easy. Being a mage in a small town had afforded you some luxuries others could only dream of, under the predication that you would never use said magic in public. It was an unspoken rule in town, because at this point most everyone around you knew you were a mage. Not that you bragged about it, but there was a distinctive 'I could light you on fire' swagger you had when wandering about town. It was obvious, really. But being so handsome and charming allowed you some niceties that you never truly thought about in depth.

You had slipped. It had all been too easy. The tavern in Lothering was one small vice you only allowed yourself infrequently at best, and typically only when one of your siblings or parents were with you. Safety in numbers. After your third pint though, you felt a little too at ease and sometimes... well, things happened. A little sparking from your fingertips, not anything that would have even hurt anyone. Unfortunately there was a caravan from Denerim in that night paying their tab (more than you would end up paying in two months, by the looks of it) staring right at you as it happened. While your quick wit was legendary (or at least, _you_ would say it was) it wasn't enough to convince them that all four of them had seen the exact same figment of their imagination. Lying, as it turned out, was less your craft than out-and-out flattery. Charisma over deception. Subterfuge over flexing your farm-toned arm muscles and hoping they'd forget what you had been talking about in the first place.

And that, more or less, is how you ended up here – in front of a Grey Warden recruiter. But you all ready knew that much. What you didn't know is why on Thedas the wardens would want a nineteen year old apostate fuck up. Yet here you were, looking at a man with a dark complexion and a ponytail, face covered with a beard and a solemn expression. He spoke with your father, and although ultimately it was your choice you could tell both parents were worried by what they all ready knew you were going to say. Going to the Circle wasn't even an option. You wouldn't be shoved away, out of the prying eyes of other Fereldens and swept under the rug while the rest of the country pretended you didn't exist. You had heard about how people treated mages, and while you had the fortune to never have to deal with it in the same capacity others did, it did not endear you to the idea of being treated like a child sociopath for the rest of your life. While you did not really have any goals or dreams of your own, one thing you could say was not sharing a room with even more people than you were now definitely topped the list.

“I want to go,” you told them. Your face was unusually serious, your tone even more so. Even if the only other option hadn't been going to the Circle, you would have said the same thing.You knew they would fight you. It was dangerous, the life of a Grey Warden. But you had always looked up to them: in all the stories your mother would tell you about the blights, how the wardens were always the ones to stop it. They saved people. Instead of hiding for the rest of your life, you could help people and really make something of yourself. So even as your father argued, even as your mother cried, you maintained a surprisingly stoic expression. They eventually agreed; you would have some amount of freedom, not persecuted for something you were born with, something you couldn't choose for yourself.

So the next morning you woke up early, kissed your mother and gave the twins the biggest hug you could muster. When Duncan returned, the both of you plus your one small bag of belongings left. You could feel your heart beating so hard you could hear it in your ears. This is your new life, for better or worse.

* * *

Ostagar is huge; although most places would be, considering Lothering was the only comparison you could aptly make. Duncan tells you to go take a look around, that there is a little time yet before you are all ready to leave with the rest of the recruits. You weren't aware there was more than just you, although that would only make sense. Still, it does tarnish your momentary feeling of being a special snowflake. It doesn't, however, keep you from wandering around with a slightly dopey expression caused by never seeing any building quite so vast or impressive before.

You stop to look at a traveling merchant's wears, but quickly move along when you remember you have basically nothing in terms of money and lack the basic desire to strap giant chunks of metal to yourself as a supposed support in battle. Although, at some point you may need to rethink the entire 'no armor' thing as you are a Grey Warden now (could you even really say that? Was it even official?) and fighting darkspawn was something you would undoubtedly end up doing in the upcoming weeks. But for now you continue walking, looking, exploring. You hear talking, and instinctively head towards it. Two men, one significantly older looking, and the other was in armor. They weren't downright arguing, but you knew enough about arguments to know they probably didn't want you standing right there to overhear the back and forth. And yet, nosy creature you were, you knew if it was something interesting you'd at least want to know what they were going to shoo you away from.

“And here I thought we were getting along so well. I was even going to name one of my children after you... the _grumpy_ one”.

You snort, and immediately regret the decision. It wasn't as though you meant to, but rather, it simply slips out through your nose and slightly in the back of your throat – like when Carver runs into something and you know he'll try to punch you if you outright laugh but Maker it's hilarious that he still hasn't realized he is growing still and seems to lose control of his body. You could feel both of them looking at you, not that they mention it.

“Enough,” said grumpy one replies in a huffy tone after turning back to the other man who is _not_ you, Maker be praised. “I will speak with the woman if I must! Get out of my way, fool!” And as though he was in a great hurry he turned and left posthaste. The younger man, dusty reddish hair an a slight grin approached you in his stead.

“You know, one good thing about the blight is how it brings people together,” the sarcasm was nearly palpable, and you gave him a warm smile and chuckle in return.

“Yes, I often tell myself that we're in desperate need of most apocalyptic situations if only for the sake of the children,” you reply with a growing grin, taking a moment to subtly look over the man standing in front of you. His armor and overall build suggested that he came from a family similar to yours – one without money or standing. His cheekbones spoke an entirely different story. The tiniest wrinkles were all ready forming in the corners of his eyes, suggesting he enjoyed laughing or cutting onions in his spare time.

“Of course, we'd all stand around singing and holding hands. _That_ would certainly give the darkspawn something to think about,” a pause as he took a moment to look over you himself although significantly less prying in his motives, clearly trying to judge where he knew you from. “Wait, we haven't met, have we? I don't suppose you happen to be another mage?”

“Damn, what gave it away? Was it the robe? You know, for people who try to stay out of the limelight we really should think about not all dressing the same. And carrying giant sticks, every last one of us. Pretty much just asking to broadcast that I need to be escorted to the nearest templar and given such a spanking”. You could see the other man's eyes widen slightly before a louder, pleased chuckle spilled forth from his mouth and to your ears. Well, that was a rather lovely sound all things considered. The twins would have both hit you, but it seemed as though there was at least one fan of yours to be found outside your tiny farm town after all.

“No, no templars here thankfully. Wait, I _do_ know who you are. I'm betting you're Duncan's new recruit, the one from Lothering. I should have recognized you right away, I apologize”.

“And I'm betting that would make you Alistair”.

“Oh, Duncan mentioned me? Nothing bad I hope”.

“He certainly didn't mention you were a strapping young gentleman with eyes I could get lost in, if that's what you mean,” and as soon as you say it you see a notable pink color rise to Alistair's cheeks that tell you that wasn't what he meant at all. You still smile though, because making someone embarrassed was even more fun than having them respond in kind – and partially because you were shameless when it came to reveling in embarrassing others. It wasn't as though you were expecting anything other than perhaps being shoved or hit in the arm, being told you were being unprofessional or something in kind.

“And he didn't tell me you were such a shameless flirt. Do you use that line on anyone with two legs and a pulse, or am I supposed to feel special from all this unwarranted attention?”

“Having two legs in Lothering cuts out about three-fourths of our population, so it's not exactly an unreasonable standard to have,” you say whilst shrugging your shoulders, deflecting the question with a joking statement about cows. Because apparently that was easier than having to admit any small admit of sincerity. It wasn't as you knew Alistair or anything about him other than he was a Grey Warden. And yet having someone you felt was on a similar wavelength, someone who would rather tell a joke or make light of a situation rather than stew and brood the entire time was a load off your shoulders. At the very least, the two of you might understand one another a bit better than you imagine Duncan would. And if he was more than a might bit attractive, so much the better. It wasn't as though you'd act on it – of course. You spoke unprofessionally but you hadn't even really been inducted into the Wardens, it wasn't as though you were going to try and get Ye Olde Sexual Harrassment Lawsuit on your metaphorical and literal ass.

He continued as though you hadn't tried to make a fool out of yourself only seconds ago, smile still prominent. “As the junior member of the order, I'll be accompanying you when you prepare for the Joining.”

“Sounds very ominous. I knew the Grey Wardens were a secret society but I had no idea we had our own mysterious rituals. Oh, shit, I didn't even give you my name, did I? Unless Duncan all ready did. Anyway, I'm Hawke,” you say, a little faster than would be considered normal even by your own standards. Check it up to the entire situation you currently find yourself in, if you want. It's been a long couple of days, what with being outed as an apostate BY YOURSELF and joining the wardens and now something called the Joining. Hopefully it would be that sort of holding hands singing circle Alistair mentioned before.

He nods at you, his out-and-out smile now more like a lingering smirk. It says something along the lines of 'I know something you don't' and it should annoy you, but you can't find it within yourself to be mad about the situation at all. “So, Hawke,” he says after a moment, and your ears nearly perk up in literal anticipation. It just... sounded rather nice, your name that is – coming from him. Okay, that sounded a little pathetic even if it was just in your head, you had to admit. You said nothing, as a direct result, simply showing attentiveness. “Whenever you're ready let's head back to Duncan. I imagine he's getting eager to get things started.”

“Right, of course,” you reply without a second thought. You must have been putting Alistair out, not to mention Duncan: the man who brought you here in the first place. Truly, you were just trying to be a good student. That was definitely all. Not sucking up in the hopes of winning a bit of favor with the pretty junior warden. You couldn't possibly be that shallow. Not you. Nope. “I'm looking forward to it.”

“You do? That's a switch. Well, if you have any questions, let me know. Otherwise, lead on!”

“Me lead? Oh no, I definitely think you should lead. After all, you're the **junior warden** here,” you said, and it almost sounded sincere, at least for someone who didn't know you all too well. Not entirely sincere, mind you, because you were still Garrett fucking Hawke and sounding completely sincere or compassionate was nigh unthinkable even if you were being either of those things (let alone both). It was a physical impairment, really, the need to constantly sound sarcastic. But despite quirking an eyebrow at you, Alistair seems to take it in stride and head off towards where you assume Duncan told both of you to meet him. It may or may not have all been part of your clever plot to watch the other man as he walked, particularly from the backside. Not that you would ever say as much.


End file.
